


JARLEY (A Tom/Harrison Fic)

by holeofholland



Category: DC Extended Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Butt Slapping, Come Eating, Come Shot, Come as Lube, Creampie, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Doggy Style, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Gay Joker (DCU), Gay Sex, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Hand Jobs, Harley Quinn is Charley Quinn, Hospital Sex, Light BDSM, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV Harleen Quinzel, Praise Kink, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M, bisexual Batman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26520955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holeofholland/pseuds/holeofholland
Summary: After receiving a comic book from a fan, Tom Holland and Harrison Osterfield find themselves as two of the most important characters of the horniest Batman comic ever written.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Harleen Quinzel, Harleen Quinzel/Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Tom Holland/Harrison Osterfield
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. Crash Landing

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set within the DCU but not in any particular canon. Harley Quinn (aka Harleen Quinzell) is gender-swapped for Charley Quinn (aka Charles Quinzell). As Joker plays a huge role in this story, expect a bit of aggressiveness and dubious taboo actions.

“Geez, what a day,” Tom announces, collapsing across from me in one of the jet plane’s cushiony seats. He tosses his legs lazily over one of the armrests and begins undoing his shoelaces. He kicks them off before removing his ballcap and raking his fingers through his hair. He turns to me and smiles. “Sorry, just a bit tired. How was your day?”

I shrug and close the _People_ magazine I picked up at the local _7-Eleven_. “Not bad. We went to the mall—nothing there, unfortunately—and got lunch at a pizza place.”

“Oh, Harry went with you?”

“Yeah. I think he was more excited about the scenery, though.” In truth, he absolutely was. When Tom had announced to Harry and me three days ago that he had some business in Ohio for _Cherry_ , we both hopped on the chance to join him. A six hour flight later, we touched down in the states and went our separate ways, Tom to a schedule of interviews and Harry joining me in an exploration of the city.

“How could I not be?” Harry defends, joining Tom and me in a spare seat. He’s changed out of the clothes he wore today. He had been wearing a pair of tight-fitting jeans that hugged his bottom just right (trust me, I noticed) and a graphic tee. Now, he opts for joggers and his usual pink hooded jumper.

Tom rolls his eyes and playfully kicks his younger brother. “Well, I’m glad you two had fun. Meanwhile, I was stuck answering the same questions over and over. Honestly, you’d think people could come up with something original.”

“What mindset did you have to get into? What was costume like? Was it a big deal to shave your head?” I fire off.

Tom counts off on his fingers. “It was rough; I nearly felt lost in myself. It was different from my usual style. Hair grows back, so no.”

We all laugh then Harry asks, “What about the meet and greet?”

“The only good thing about the day,” Tom says. “I wish it would’ve lasted longer though. It’s always nice meeting everyone.”

“I bet you get some interesting questions from _them_ ,” I smirk.

Tom chuckles. “Oh, you have no clue! Someone wanted to know my shoe size!”

“Ooh, some foot fetish people after you, Thomas.”

“Oh, shut it, you loaf.” Tom tosses his hat at me. I catch it, put it on, and stick my tongue out at him.

“Says twelve on Google,” Harry then adds to the conversation. “In American.”

“I was gonna say…” Tom pretends to inspect his foot before laughing at his own humor.

“Well, anyway,” Harry says, “I’m going to nap. I think I can squeeze one in before we land.”

Tom kicks his brother again as he’s walking into the aisle. “Night, mate.”

Harry doesn’t say anything but he flips Tom off before disappearing. Tom glances over the seats until he’s sure we’re alone before climbing out of his own and into my lap. He rocks his hips against my crotch as he nibbles on my stubbly jaw.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes.

I giggle at the ticklish feeling. “It was just a few hours.”

“I know but it was so boring.” He draws out the word so that it’s three syllables too long. “I couldn’t focus on anything. I was thinking about this too much.” He clamps a hand over the front of my zipper and tugs on my surprising quick erection. “I know you thought about it too, right?”

“Mm, maybe,” I tease, bringing Tom’s lips to mine. We kiss for what feels like forever and not long enough. It’s how it is every time, mind-crumbling, and intoxicating. Afterward, my lips are left feeling numb. I glide my fingers over them and meet Tom’s eyes. “God, I love you.”

“Mm, I know you do.” He kisses me on my nose then forehead. He continues on until every inch of my face has been touched by his lips. If he were wearing lipstick, my face would be a different color. He stares at me afterward, not saying anything until his eyes widen and it looks like he’s remembered something.

He hops off my lap and digs through a bag by the loading door. While he does, I glance out the window and realize we’re in the air. I guess the kiss was so distracting, I never felt the takeoff.

“Here it is,” Tom says, returning to my lap. He sits like a child on Santa’s this time, parting my legs with his. “A fan gave me this comic. He said he thought we’d both like it.”

I glance at the title. _Jarley._ “Never heard of it.”

“Me neither. I think it’s an original. Look, the drawing looks like us.”

Sure enough, the neon-colored artwork looks fairly similar to us. If I had to guess who was who, I would assume I’m in the back with my gloved hand on Tom’s shoulder who stands in the front with a bat in his hand.

“Well, I want to read it,” Tom says. “You want to afterward or..?”

“No, I can read with you.”

“Okay.” Tom snuggles against me. I curl an arm around his waist and rest my chin on his shoulder. I can see perfectly as he flips open the first page of the comic. “‘Somewhere in Gotham, 2:30 am.’ Wait, is this a Batman comic?”

I shrug. “Don’t know. Keep reading to find out.” He does but we don’t make it far. Two panels in, the pilot announces on the intercom that we’re experiencing turbulence. He instructs Tom, Harry, Tom’s agent, the security, and I into our seats. Tom obeys by darting across from me and buckling in. I follow suit and embrace for the jerking motion that I’ve come to know so well.

I grit my teeth and grip the armrests but something feels different, rougher. I glance at Tom who seems to notice it too. He stares out the window and gasps. I follow his line of sight and see the clouds flying up. We’re not experiencing turbulence—we’re going down.

As if on key, the intercom kicks back on. “Everyone needs to hang on. We’re bracing for impact.”

My heart begins racing. I’ve seen too many movies to know bracing for impact doesn’t mean anything good. If anything, it means imminent death. Tom must be thinking the same thing. Across from me, he flings off his buckle and races towards me.

“What are you doing?” I exclaim.

He presses his lips against mine, hard. When he pulls back, tears are streaming down his face. “I love you. I want you to remember that, okay?”

“Tom, this doesn’t mean we’re going to die.”

“I’m not an idiot and neither are you.” He kisses me again and, this time, I pull him in. I wrap my hands around his back and breathe in the scent of him. If these are my last moments, I’m glad they’re with Tom, with the love of my life.

He shakes violently as something knocks against the plane, maybe a tree. Then, it all comes in at once. Hardness against metal. I glance out the window and see the wing gone. There’s no denying what’s coming.

“Tom,” I whisper, pulling back for one moment. “I love—” I cut my words short as we make impact. Tom falls from my lap and I scream. Then, it all goes black.

♡♢♤♧

I blink my eyes open to a hazy mist masking my vision. My head feels thirty pounds too heavy and my stomach is churning like a tidal wave. The sour taste of bile lingers on my tongue. I wonder where we’ve landed. It’s somewhere with rough terrain, I figure. The ground beneath me is solid, like granite. Though if that’s the case, it’s nothing short of a miracle that I’m still alive.

_Alive._

My mind immediately goes to Tom. Where is he? How badly hurt is he? I don’t seem to be at all, besides maybe a concussion. Maybe he’s just as lucky.

I slowly climb to my feet, swaying slightly from dizziness. It takes a moment but eventually I find my footing. My vision begins clearing and my surroundings come into focus. At first, I don’t notice them. My mind is too trained on finding Tom. When I do though, my fears worsen. We’ve not crash-landed in the mountains or on a rough plain. I’m standing on the top of a building in a city eerily similar to New York. And seeing as I can’t seem to locate a plane on any other buildings, I’m sure we’ve crash-landed below.

The thought of hundreds, even thousands dead crosses my mind. I hunch over and hurl. When I’m done, I recompose myself and start across the rooftop, sweeping my eyes over every inch for any sign of life. I’ve just about reached the edge and the end of my hope when something shimmery catches my eye. I follow it until I can make out the skinny figure of a man. At least, I think he’s a man. He’s nearly cloaked in darkness. The only reason he gleans, I realize, is some sort of beacon passes by every few seconds. I can’t help but feel it’s a searchlight, looking for any survivors of the crash.

“Hello?” I yell out. The figure remains still. I draw a few inches closer. “Are you okay?” Still, no response, so I move in further. I’m so close now that I can see a few black tattoos lining the man’s pale shoulders. No, not pale…white. White as snow.

“S-Sir?” I ask, moving a hand to said shoulder. Before I can touch him, the man rolls over, clearly startled. His hands fly outward as if looking for a target. When they find none, he relaxes. That’s when I see his face.

“ _Tom?_ ”

“Huh?” the man who I’m sure is my boyfriend looks at me. His eyes meet mine but they are not the swirling pools of cocoa I’ve come to love. They’re green and somehow darker, moodier. There not eyes I would want to stare into very long so I don’t. I scan the rest of maybe-Tom’s appearance. His hair is dyed green and his skin is like a clown’s. Red lipstick is sloppily applied to his thin mouth and tattoos dot his temple and neck.

I swallow back a lump in my throat, a lump of fear for what I realize I already know. “Tom? Is that you?”

“Haz?” His voice comes out sounding garbled and shredded. Still, it’s Tom’s voice.

I collapse next to him and pull his head into my lap. “Oh, my god, are you okay?”

“I think so.” He raises his arms and inspects himself. “Why am I white?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you fell into something during the crash.”

“What about the tattoos?”

“I don’t-”

“Holy shit!” he suddenly exclaims pointing to my face.

“What?” I yell back with the same tone.

“Your face. It’s…It’s not the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s pale and you’re wearing makeup. Your hair…it’s pink and blue.”

“Pink and blue..?” I run a hand through my curls expecting the feeling to be different but it’s not. Of course, it’s not. “Yours is green!”

“ _What?_ ” Tom bolts up into a sitting position and scrubs his head. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Something must have happened during the crash!”

“I know,” I remind him, doing my best to remain calm. In all our years together, I’ve come to learn this role usually falls heavily on me in difficult times. “Look, it’s probably not a big deal. Honestly, it’s the least of our worries. Right now, we need to…Oh, my god.”

“What? What is it?”

“That,” I say, pointing at the cape and leather suit-wearing man mere feet from us, just across the gap of two buildings.

Tom sees him and gasps. “Is that..?”

“Yeah, I think it is.”

“But how?”

I rack my brain until a lightbulb goes off. “The comic! This was on the first page of the comic. Batman goes after the Joker and Charley.”

“Well, if that’s Batman,” Tom concludes, “then does that mean we’re-”

“Joker!” the masked vigilante cuts in gruffly. His voice echoes through the night, feeling like a threatening blast.

“What do we do?” Tom cries.

“What Joker and Charley do best. _Run._ ”

I link my hand in Tom’s and we flee, running in the opposite direction of Batman. Our escape is short-lived, though, as we come upon the opposite ledge. Before we can stop to think, Tom screams to jump. So, we do.

Mere inches from the ledge, we pogo into the air. Wind bites us coolly as we seem to float over the gap. Though I’ve heard it a million times in the movies, I look down and see the ant-like city below. And just like the movies, it’s an absolute mistake.

One second, I’m free-falling with Tom. The next, I’m watching him helplessly as he makes it across and I don’t, as I drop like snow to the ground. Everything seems to move in slow motion—the clotheslines I snap, the clouds rolling by, Tom screaming after me as he leans over the ledge. I make a decision then that I won’t look at him as I die. I can’t.

I close my eyes and wait for the impact of the sidewalk, but it never comes. Instead, the roughness of armor knocks against my back and I feel myself rise. I open my eyes and meet Batman’s.

“You saved me,” I breathe.

“Death is too good for you, Quinn,” he deadpans.

We end up landing next to Tom who immediately clamors after me only to be knocked back by Batman. The sight angers me and I launch myself forward, kicking what should be a shin but ends up feeling like a brick wall.

“What the hell?” I curse, biting back the pain coursing through my foot.

“You never were bright, Quinn.” Batman retrieves a pair of handcuffs from his belt and attaches them to my wrists. They seem to burn more than the plain metal ones Tom occasionally likes to bring out at night. Batman attaches an identical pair onto Tom’s white-as-snow wrists.

“Where are you taking us?” he asks.

“You know where.” Batman pushes us together then secures our cuffs as one. Sirens swell around us; red and blue lights pulse below.

“You got ‘em, Batman?” a gruff voice calls through a megaphone.

Into his wrist, Batman says, “Affirmative, Jim.”

♡♢♤♧

The place Tom is supposed to know we’re going ends up being one of the worst places either of us could ever imagine—Arkham Asylum. Though I’m not able to see it from the inside of the prisoner van we’re being kept in, I can make out the ominous way the hospital is run. We make only two stops, one so the driver can have his credentials verified and the second so the van can be inspected. On our final stop, we’re removed from the van, not in the gentlest manner.

A guard is assigned to each of us, Tom and I, and neither seems too pleased to be given the job. Mine, a burly man whose scrubs seem too tight, clenches a fist around my arm (probably bruising it) and pulls me through the asylum’s main doors. They slam shut behind me. I glance over my shoulder to find Tom but the guard squeezes me harder.

“Eyes front, you freak,” he barks.

He leads me through a series of secure doors until we finally stop in front of one labeled **INTAKE.** He pulls this one open and shoves me inside. When the door slams shut, I’m all alone. Or, at least, I’m supposed to _think_ I am. In all four corners of the room are security cameras. Attached to one of them is what appears to be a sort of dart gun.

Suddenly, the door reopens. I jump back and stare wide-eyed as Tom joins me, followed immediately by none other than the B-Man himself.

“Oh, Haz,” Tom exclaims. He races towards me and attempts a hug before remembering our restraints.

“Both of you,” Batman interrupts. “Sit.” He points to two chairs tucked beneath a metal table. Tom and I take them as Batman sits on the opposite side.

“What are we doing here?” Tom asks.

“Shut it, Joker.” Batman leans forward and folds his hands on the table. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” I cut in.

“You know damn well what. Those doctors, why are you killing them? For revenge?”

“Revenge..? Look, dude, I don’t know what you want from us.”

“Dude?” Batman looks genuinely puzzled, which is difficult for a man who hides behind a mask. “It’s clear you won’t be telling me anything tonight. So, how about we cut to the chase?”

“Like, being released?” Tom chimes.

Batman scoffs. “You never were funny, Joker. No, I meant our deal…how it goes every time I drag your sorry asses back here.”

“ _What deal?_ ” I demand, my temper rising. “You’re gonna have to spell it out for us, asshole.”

“Fine.” Batman stands and clicks something on his wrist. The cameras surrounding us suddenly curve down. “Cameras are off as usual. You want more privileges during your stay?” He fiddles with his belt until it falls to the floor. What follows leaves me speechless. Before my very eyes, Batman pulls free his massive erection. And when I say massive, it is still an understatement.

“What are...?” I begin but lose my words. His length is just too mesmerizing.

“On your knees, now!”

We do as we’re told, Tom and I both, falling to our knees directly in front of Batman. Our hands remain behind our backs so it’s a bit difficult to do anything as he sways side to side, as his cock slaps our cheeks. Finally, though, I manage to lock my lips around him. I slide forward and allow my mouth to fill with the sweet musky taste. My tongue swirls around the bulging veins circling his length, flicks over the dip of his head.

“Fuck,” he moans, lacing a gloved hand in my hair. “You, on my balls.” His words are directed at Tom who obeys accordingly, adjusting himself so that he’s directly under me. I watch as he brings Batman’s balls into his mouth like candy and whines. His eyes roll back as he takes in that intoxicating taste, the one I know I’ll never be able to get enough of.

“Like that?” Tom asks, popping Batman’s balls from his mouth.

“Did I tell you to fucking speak? Keep going. And you…” He yanks my hair and I yelp. I release him and stare into his pitch-black eyes. “I’m going to ruin you.”

I expect Batman to let me continue but he doesn’t. He continues to stare at me for a moment until he decides Tom’s done enough. After pushing him away, he lines my mouth against his tip. I open and he slams in.

The motion nearly knocks me off my knees. Were it not for the hand clenched in my hair, I just might have. Instead, I’m held steady as Batman makes me his personal toy. He knocks hard and steadfast, his tip continuously jabbing my throat. Each time he thrusts in, my nose buries in the delicious stench of his pubes. Drool pours around my lips, coating my shirt. It bubbles up and out and even threatens to shoot through my nose. It’s a feeling I’ve never felt before, of pure control and masochism. It’s the work of a man who doesn’t care how he treats me. It’s the work I could grow to love.

After a few minutes of this ecstasy, Batman announces he’s going to come. He instructs Tom and I to press our faces together. We do and await the sweet release. It doesn’t take long before spurt after spurt of hot come paints our faces. Our cheeks, foreheads, chins, noses…nothing is free. It’s a load of ten men. When he’s finally finished, I can’t help but wonder whether Batman really is even human.

“Okay,” he says, returning to his formal tone and readjusting his costume. “Time to go to your cells.”


	2. Interrogation

Our cells end up being nothing more than glorified rat cages, boxed in with what I can only assume is break-proof glass. Tom and I are shoved into separate ones by the same guards who escorted us to intake and have our handcuffs removed. Once inside, our doors are locked not by key but by an alarm attached to the wall. I eye it carefully as my guard swipes a card across it. A light flashes from green to red and a deafening alarm sounds within my four walls.

“What the hell?” I scream, clenching my hands to my ears.

The guard chuckles menacingly. “That way we know you freaks aren’t going anywhere.”

“Don’t call him a freak,” Tom barks. He puts on what is supposed to be an intimidating face but I can’t help but find it adorable. He looks like a kid unsure of himself while standing up to a bully.

“Oh?” the guard says. “And what are you going to do about it?” Tom doesn’t say anything which only makes the guard surer of himself. “That’s what I thought… _freak._ ”

The guards leave then, murmuring amongst each other. Once we’re alone, Tom presses himself against the wall our cells share. He places a palm against the glass and I match it. He’s only a few inches away but it feels like miles. I never realized how badly I wanted to touch him until I wasn’t allowed.

“What are we gonna do?” I ask, for once dropping my cool façade.

Tom glances around his cell before answering. “Do you think there’s anything in here we can use to escape?”

“Doubtful.” Our cells are furnished the exact same way if you can call it furnishing. In opposite corners, we have metal beds adorned with the thinnest blanket I’ve ever seen. Next to it, a few feet down, is a toilet and sink, the latter lacking any soap. And that’s all we have.

Tom curses under his breath. “How the hell did we even end up here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was the crash?”

“Then why haven’t we heard anything about it? Why are we..?” Tom glances down at his attire. “Why are we _them?_ ”

I sigh, defeated. “I wish I knew, Tom.” Something sparks in my mind then, a memory. “Wait. What about that comic?”

“What about it?” Tom asks.

“It was set in Gotham City, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And we’re in Gotham City.”

“Okay…”

“The cover looked like us but awfully similar to two criminals we know quite well.”

“No…”

I shake my head in the same disbelief. “Yes, Tom. I think we’re _inside_ the comic.”

♡♢♤♧

Somewhere between our confusion and our fear, Tom and I manage to fall asleep. We wake a while later to the sound of distant screaming. In it is agony. It is the screams of someone being tortured. From what I remember from my comic knowledge, the sound isn’t all that uncommon between these walls.

“Christ,” Tom breathes, wincing at the voice.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Did you sleep any?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “A bit. Do you know what time it is?”

“Does it look like I have a watch?” I snap unexpectedly. As soon as the words are out, I’m apologizing. They were my words but I didn’t mean to say them. Come to think of it, I’ve never snapped at Tom like this.

“I’m sorry,” I try. “I didn’t mean to-”

He holds a tattooed hand up to stop me. “It’s fine. We’re both really stressed out right now.” He turns to the locked imprint of a door and shoves a shoulder against it. It doesn’t budge. “I just wish there was some way out of here.”

“Maybe there is,” I say, nodding to the two figures drawing closer in the corridor.

Tom eyes Batman and his mysterious partner. “What are they doing back?” His voice comes out as a frightened hiss.

“It’s probably nothing. They may not even be here for us.” But no, they absolutely are.

Batman stops in front of Tom’s cell and his partner, who I now recognize as Nightwing, in front of mine. “You’ll talk today,” the latter booms authoritatively.

Batman nods in my direction. “Nightwing, you take Quinn. I’ll handle Joker. He’s always been a tricky one.”

“Damn right,” Tom quips. It doesn’t sound like him at all. I don’t have time to mull the fact over though. As soon as he says it, our cells are unlocked. Nightwing swings my door open and latches a hand around my forearm. He isn’t gentle as he pulls me to his side and leads me down the narrow corridor into the shadows.

As we walk, I notice the rest of the inmates on this block. None are recognizable, most simple petty thugs if I had to guess. They all holler at me, calling out different slurs and inviting me to join them for various activities, most too vulgar to even comprehend. Thankfully, the walk isn’t long. In just a few minutes, Nightwing stops in front of a door labeled **INTERVIEW ROOM 4**.

“Take a seat on the right,” he instructs, letting me go as soon as the door is shut behind us. The room is eerily similar to the intake room from last night. The walls are stark white and there aren’t any windows. Four cameras are lodged in their respective corners, though lacking any type of guns next to them. A rectangular metal table is drilled to the middle of the floor. Two chairs are tucked on opposite sides. Following Nightwing’s orders, I take the right one.

I shiver as my bare legs touch the metal. Nightwing notices and smiles, which is the last thing I expect. “You cold?” he asks. I nod cautiously. “Let me get you a blanket.”

He turns to a small filing cabinet on the back wall of the room. I didn’t notice it before because it’s nearly the same color as the walls. Perhaps it’s meant to blend in. From it, Nightwing pulls a blanket that looks like a bundle of dryer lint. He hands it off and I greedily wrap it around myself.

“See?” he says, nodding at my content self. “I’m not emotionless. You remember last time you told me I was?”

“I did?” I squeak.

He nods with a grin. The sight warms me. “Yeah, you told me I needed to work on it. You know, after our last…encounter.”

“What was our last encounter?”

“You don’t remember?” he inches around the table until he’s sitting on the edge closest to me. I can smell him. His scent is woodsy and heavy. I wonder if it’s a cologne or just his natural scent. “I cornered you in the alleyway and you sort of…well, you threw yourself at me.”

“Oh,” I say, more out of numb shock than anything. I would have never guessed that Charley Quinn and Nightwing were a thing.

Nightwing chuckles. “Well, don’t act disappointed. From what I remember, you enjoyed it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He squats down so that we’re eye-level. “You sent me a note afterward telling me you wouldn’t be at Joker’s next plan because you couldn’t walk.”

“It must have been good then,” I breathe. I’m suddenly thankful for the blanket for more than its warmth. Right now, it’s doing a pretty good job of hiding my erection.

“You really don’t remember?” Nightwing prods, a little disappointed.

I shrug. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. It’s hard telling what’s going on in that weird brain of yours.” He stands and walks back to his chair. He collapses in it and stares long at me. His eyes burn into me so that I have to look at anything but him—the tiles on the floor, the grit on the wall, the lifeless cameras…

“Are those on?” I ask, nodding to the cameras.

“Nah,” Nightwing says. “Batman hates them during interrogation.”

“This is an interrogation?”

Nightwing actually laughs at that, loud and boisterous. “I suppose it doesn’t seem like it, does it?” I shake my head. “Well, I guess we have to change that.” He’s silent for a moment, thinking things through. “Okay, I’ve got it. How about a deal?”

“A deal?” I lean forward, oddly intrigued.

“Yeah,” he smiles. “You answer my questions and…and I’ll remind you of what happened in that alleyway.”

“Remind me…Right now?”

“Well, you gotta answer my questions first,” he reminds me.

I dart my eyes to the door. When I’m sure no one is coming to disturb us, I nod. “Go ahead.”

Nightwing releases a deep breath. I wonder if he’s actually nervous about this interrogation. “Okay, first one. Why were you and Joker at Doctor Carmichael’s house last night?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb, Charley, please.” He rubs his temple lightly. “I really don’t want to be doing this, to begin with. Let’s not make it more difficult than it has to be.”

“I-I’m sorry,” I muster. “I really don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“So, what, you’ve got amnesia now?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. I just woke up on that rooftop and Batman was chasing me.”

“Hmm.” He glances off into the distance, thinking. “You were running across those rooftops for a while. I guess it’s possible you hurt yourself. Does Joker remember anything?”

“I don’t know,” I admit.

Nightwing stands abruptly and closes the gap between us. He lifts me from the chair and against him. Our faces hover apart for a moment before his lips are on mine. His kiss is delicious, deliberate, and almost blueprinted if even possible. He seems to follow a pattern, checking off what to do—lock lips, swirl tongues, bite lip, suck tongue, repeat. It’s not terrible but it’s nothing compared to the love that blossoms when Tom kisses me.

Eventually, Nightwing pulls back with a wide grin. “Does that jog your memory?”

I shake my head, honestly sad that I can’t help anymore. “I’m sorry.”

“Guess we’ll have to try something else then.”

“Like what?”

Before I can get an answer, Nightwing twirls me around and pushes me over the table. I yelp as I feel his surprisingly smooth hands connect with my ass cheeks. He palms them, balancing their weight and squeezing slightly.

“Damn,” he breathes. “I forgot how round your ass is. You ready for me to fuck it?”

“I-”

“Shh, don’t bother, baby. I already know you are.” Nightwing pulls my shorts down then and falls to his knees. One second I’m wondering what he’s up to and the next…I feel it.

His tongue works over my opening, sliding around like a loose snake, darting in and out and swirling. He laps like a dog desperate for drink. Guttural growls escape his throat as he shakes his head back and forth. With each passing second and every flick of the tongue, I feel myself loosen. It fuels a desperation inside me I didn’t realize I had, a desperation to feel Nightwing.

“Please,” I beg. “I need you.”

“Mm, is that right?” he says, his words muffled by my cheeks.

“Yes,” I whine. “Please, Nightwing…FUCK ME.”

He pulls away then. When I glance back, I see spit hanging down his chin. “You got it, sweet thing.” He stands and I hear the squeak of his latex suit coming undone. A few seconds later, his tip is pulsing against my hole. “Just breathe, baby.”

“Just do it,” I practically scream.

“Ooh, you’re a bossy bottom, aren’t you?” He doesn’t say anything else he enters me. I scream, feeling his thickness rip me open. My hole stretches and my walls ache. His tip knocks against my spot but he’s still not done. He pushes onward until his thighs connect with my ass. He rests then.

I glance over my shoulder and watch him struggle to breathe. “What’s the matter?”

“You’re just so tight. It feels so good,” he concedes.

I smirk and give him a wink. “Then do something about it.”

Nightwing doesn’t need any further encouragement. In seconds, he’s fallen into a rhythm. The two of us together makes a new song, one of my screams and his moans and the table squeaking beneath us. If anyone is standing outside the door, they’re sure to hear us. I don’t care though. Nothing matters right now, not with something so gigantic drilling deep into me.

“Harder, Nightwing,” I beg, clutching the edge of the table for support.

He rakes a fist through my hair and pulls me up. His hands explore my body as he rams again and again. I’m gasping for air by the time he screams my name—actually, Charley’s—and announces he’s going to come. I implore him to fill me, to make me wet, and he’s happy to oblige.

“You’re going to be leaking for weeks,” he promises, breaking my spot. A few seconds later, his hand closes off my airway and he releases. His come coats my walls, warm and sticky. It’s a euphoria I can’t get enough of. It’s enough to make me come too.

“Holy shit,” I cry as he finishes and pulls out. As promised, I don’t leak immediately after.

Nightwing is panting as he looks at me while dressing. “Bet you’ll remember that, huh?”

I bite my lip and nod. “I’ll never forget it.”

♡♢♤♧

After Nightwing is sure I’m fully dressed and unsusceptible, he leads me back to my cell. As he guides me inside, his hand grazes my ass and I’m more than certain it isn’t an accident. A few minutes later, Tom joins me, his face contorted into a grin I’ve never seen before. Once he’s back in his cell, Batman and Nightwing walk away without saying another word.

“How was it? Did he ask you anything weird? Did he hurt you?” I throw the questions at Tom at a mile per minute.

He just shakes his head. “Just like usual.”

“Like usual?”

Suddenly, Tom doubles over in what I think is tears. I don’t blame him. In the comics, Batman seems like a righteous vigilante. In-person, he’s a frightening creature of the night. I can understand why criminals fear him.

“T-Tom?” I ask, inching towards the glass we share. Once I’m closer, I realize he isn’t crying after all…he’s laughing. “Tom? Tom, answer me.”

He snaps his head up and his eyes are glassy. He doesn’t look like that boy I fell in love with. “We have to leave, baby.”

“I know but there’s no way-”

“Doesn’t matter,” he interrupts. “We’re leaving tonight or we’re facing the table tomorrow.”

“The table..?”

As if on cue, two guards wheel out a prisoner on a stretcher. He’s arched up at a slight angle so that I can see his face. It’s pale and hollow. Foam drips from the corner of his mouth. He meets my eyes for a second and I swear I see a plea in them, a plea to put him out of his misery. It’s that look that makes me realize Tom is right. We have to get out of Arkham…no matter what it takes.


	3. The Escape Plan

It’s around five in the morning that Tom tells me the guards will change shifts. I don’t know how he’s come upon this information or if it’s even accurate, but I don’t question it. There’s too much on my mind to do so. Our primary priority is escape and after that, maybe a way back home.

“Okay, you ready?” Tom asks me softly, recalling our plan we discussed after being brought back to our cells. I mentally run over the points again just to be sure—grab the guards attention, offer him what he wants, take his gun, home free. In theory, it’s a simple plan…for Charley Quinn. I, on the other hand, have never propositioned a man outside of Tom and the occasional drunk blowie with his brother.

Though unsure, I nod anyway. “Yeah, let’s just get this over with.”

“You’ll do great, pumpkin.”

 _Huh._ I think. _Pumpkin. That’s a new one._

Tom nods at a guard turning the corner. He’s short and stocky and there’s a gun on his hip. He could be exactly the kind of guy we’re looking for, emphasis on “could.”

“How do you know he’ll want it?” I hiss as the guard draws closer.

Tom shrugs. “Won’t until you try. Now, stop being a pussy.”

I’m a little stunned at Tom’s words. He’s never spoken to me like that before, or anyone for that matter. I’m starting to think the longer we stay in this place, the darker he’s becoming. At least on the rooftop, he was still the boy I love.

“Fine,” I snap.

I begin by undoing my shorts and pulling them off my ass. I turn ever so slightly so that one cheek presses against the glass. Once I’m okay with how I look, I bring my fingers to my lips and whistle. It catches the guard’s attention immediately. He eyes me cautiously before dropping all concern upon seeing my ass.

“Damn, Quinn,” he hoots, apparently apathetic as to who can hear him. He crosses the corridor to my cell and leans against the glass. His eyes never once leave my nakedness. “I can see why this one runs with you.” He jerks his head back at Tom who’s apparently too involved in his fingernails to notice us.

“Yeah,” I coo, playing the most seductive voice I can muster, truly channeling Charley. “But Mister J doesn’t ever let me have fun.”

“Mm, no?” The guard tugs at the front of his cargo pants; evidently what I’m doing is working.

I shake my head and bite my lip. I tilt my head and look at the guard through my lashes. “He just takes me as he wants me, never asks what I want.”

The guard isn’t trying to hide his erection now. He palms it and grins widely like he wants me to watch. “What do you want, Quinn?”

I slam my hands against the glass—hard. Though I’d never do it while flirting, it’s exactly the kind of thing Charley would. “I want some _meat_.”

“Meat?” the guard asks coolly, unaffected by my fear tactics.

“Yeah…” I bring a finger to my lips and suck. Once it’s soaked, I slide it between my cheeks and gasp. “Big…meaty…cock.”

“Is that right?” The guard sighs and glances around the corridor. He does a once-over every cell, Tom’s included. “Tell you what, sweetheart. How about you reach your hand out here and I can give you what you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Come on.” He slides open the food tray on my cell and I slip my hand through. He’s already unzipped his pants, so I wrap my fingers around his length and start pumping. He’s thick, impressive. His veins pulsate. Were this any other situation, I might be inclined to fall to my knees and taste him. But this isn’t any other situation. This is a plan in action and what I have to do next is clear.

“Is that good?” I concede.

He nods, his voice breathy. “S-So…good, sweetheart.”

I bring my hand under and cup his balls. “And this?”

“Oh, baby, yes.” His eyes flutter shut and he tilts his head back. It’s go time.

I’ve never held a gun in my life but right now I don’t have any other options. Moving swiftly so as not to be stopped, I snap my hand from the guard’s crotch to his hip. I undo the holster clasp and yank the gun free. By the time the guard notices I’ve stopped touching him, he has a barrel pressed into his gut.

“What the fuck?” he growls. “You little bitch.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Tom scolds, finally stepping up for his part in the plan. “I wouldn’t talk about my boy like that. You see—what is it that tag says, David?—I don’t like it when anyone calls Charley a bitch. That’s my job.”

The guard whose nametag I failed to notice cuts his eyes in Tom’s direction. “You’ll fry for this, Joker.”

“Ha! You know, I could go for some French fries. What do you say, pumpkin?”

“Whatever you say, Mister J,” I play along.

Tom nods approvingly. “Right then. I don’t want the diner to close before we get there. David, be a kind gentleman, and open the cells.”

“You’re insane if you think I’m doing that,” David protests.

“Insane? Yes! Doubtful? Not a lick.” Tom turns to me. “Charley, the leg.”

“What?”

“The _leg_.”

I don’t have to question Tom again. I know exactly what he wants me to do. And while I’d never hurt anyone, I know the only other option is to face the table or whatever other horrors await us within these asylum walls.

“I’m sorry,” I say before pulling the trigger. The gun pops deafeningly and smoke billows from the barrel. David cries out before falling to the floor in a growing puddle of blood. He clutches at his stomach and I realize I’ve misfired. “Shit! Tom, what do I do?”

“What?” Tom eyes me accusingly before laughing maniacally. “You’re brilliant, Charley! Now, David, you have ten seconds to crawl your sorry ass to the keypad or the next bullet will be in your head.”

“Please…” David gasps. “I have a wife. I’m going to be a father soon.”

“Tsk, tsk, lover boy. A wife—a _pregnant_ wife—and you took it from my boy. What would the missus say?”

Tears well in David’s eyes. I find myself crying too. “Please…Just don’t hurt me anymore.”

“The keypad, David. Ten…nine…”

Though his wound appears fatal and each move makes him hiss, David manages to prop himself against the wall just beneath the keypad. He rips his name tag from his shirt and slides it over the red button. A second passes before that same blaring noise from last night pierces our cells. Another second passes before the doors unlock. Once they do, Tom and I leap into the corridor. He pulls me against him and kisses me sloppily. It’s unlike any other time he has before and I find myself loving it. It’s more…passionate.

“Give me the gun, Charley,” he whispers after pulling away. I do and he aims it at David. I don’t have time to scream before he’s pulled the trigger, leaving David with his mouth agape. After, Tom hands the gun back. “I know the way, sweetheart. You just watch for anyone who can get in our way.”

“Y-You killed someone, Tom!” I protest, tossing the gun to the ground.

He catches it before it can connect with the tile and forces it into my pocket. He looks at me for a moment then brings the back of his hand to my face. “You been sleeping around again, Charley? Do you need to be punished when we get back home?”

“N-No…” I whimper, rubbing at the soreness of my cheek.

“Good. Now, let’s go.”

♡♢♤♧

The corridors of Arkham Asylum twist and wind in ways I wouldn’t think possible for a government-funded hospital. By the third turn, I feel beyond lost. Tom doesn’t though. He seems to know exactly where he’s going. In just a few minutes, he’s led us directly to the front doors of the asylum where two guards are waiting.

“We’re posted at every exit,” the shortest of the two barks, a woman with a black bun.

“Pity,” Tom sighs blandly. “I thought this would be difficult.” He snatches the gun from my pocket and fires out two rounds, disposing of both the guards. After looting their weapons and leaving me mentally scarred, he guides me onward. We only pass one more guard on our way out but he’s more than happy to let us go, cowering behind his desk. Honestly, I don’t blame him. Right now, I’m beyond terrified of Tom…if this even is Tom.

Whoever he is tips an invisible hat at the guard and chuckles. “Gooday, sir! Ha-ha!”

Outside, I expect to find a swarm of police or even Batman, but we’re alone. A single car idles at the asylum’s gates. It’s splattered in red and green paint and looks exactly like we should be driving it. Sure enough, we are.

Out of it steps a mammoth of a man, one of Joker’s goons. He nods at Tom and calls him “boss” before stepping aside. Tom guides me into the car and over the gearshift. I collapse into the passenger seat as Tom situates behind the wheel. Before I can buckle, he’s kicked the gear and stomped the gas pedal. We zoom off into the night.

The city is a blur as we move through it. Tom ignores all traffic rules, cutting through stoplights and moving down one-way streets until we’re at our apparent destination—a carnival pier. The place appears deserted as we roll through the gates our passenger so kindly opens. Tom eventually stops in front of a funhouse entrance. He kills the ignition and hops out of the car. I follow and join him inside the gaping mouth of a clown. The whole thing feels rushed and unreal, like I’m in a comic. Which, considering everything that’s happened, makes the most sense.

“Where are we?” I ask Tom who tosses the car keys to the goon.

He turns to me and smiles before throwing his arms out. With a voice that could wake the dead, Tom screams out, “Baby…we’re home!”

“Home” ends up being the bones and leftover hardware of a once-beloved funhouse. As we make our way through the winding, narrow passages, I take notice of the discolored signs and malfunctioned props. Cracked mirrors depict my body upside down and screwed like a cork. Once animated portraits sit dormant, some with graffiti crudely splattering them. In one room we pass through, six mannequins face one another in a sort of mock shootout; only two still have their heads. Bullet holes mark the rest. If this were the extent of the attraction, I think I would be fine. But it’s not and neither am I.

In every room, a different wallpaper is tasked with confusing guests. It’s chipped away and moldy when I walk through, but I still feel dizzy. Were this a working attraction, I couldn’t imagine how I would react. Thankfully, the walkthrough doesn’t take too long. After two more rooms that contain crude graffiti—Joker’s graffiti, I notice—we come upon what I imagine was once a banquet setting.

Lengthy tables are positioned on opposite sides of the room with rotted-wooden chairs tucked beneath them. Billowy fabric is stapled to the walls and adorned with Joker’s signature mark every few feet. Hanging from the ceiling is a glass chandelier probably fit for the queen though it doesn’t work. Below it is a heart-shaped waterbed that Tom plunges onto as soon as we’re in the room. It looks out of place in this musty attraction. I wonder if it’s stolen from a motel or somewhere else honeymooners are fond of.

“What do you think, pumpkin?” Tom asks, waving his hands around like a showman. “You like what I had done to the place while we were gone?”

I glance around at everything again and nod lightly, a little unsure. I know this is probably an act for Joker’s goons who could easily figure out we’re imposters but something feels off. Putting on a persona for the sake of safety is one thing but killing three innocent people is another. The Tom I know would never hurt anyone. Maybe Batman did something during the interrogation? I have to wonder.

“Hello?” Tom interjects my thoughts, drawing out the word so it’s far too long for a dictionary.

I rattle my head semi-clear. “Sorry, Mister J. I guess I’m just a little rattled.”

“Over those guards?” He scowls. “You’ve done worse, Charley, though don’t think I forgot about your punishment.”

“Punishment?”

Before I can question anything further, Tom is on his feet and dragging me to the waterbed. He tosses me on it stomach-first and yanks down my shorts so that my bare ass is exposed. He counts to three before bringing his palm hard against me. The sting is immeasurable, far beyond playfulness. His smack is painful, blistering. It makes me yelp.

“Cry like the slut you are,” Tom chides, raising his hand for a second spanking.

Just then a goon steps into my rescue. “Boss,” he calls out from the banquet hall’s doorway.

Tom turns, hand still raised. “ _What?_ ”

“We, uh, got the address of that doctor you mentioned,” the goon announces.

“Patek?”

“Yeah, boss. She’s at—”

“Never mind that,” Tom interrupts. “Pull the car around. And you”—he turns to me—“get dressed. We’re going on a little field trip.”

♡♢♤♧

For the entirety of the drive, I’m left wondering two things—where we’re going and who Dr. Patek is. When we pull up in front of a massive apartment complex, one of those questions is answered. When we force our way up to the third floor and into apartment 305, so is the other question.

Dr. Patek is an elderly woman, probably in her seventies if I had to guess. She’s shriveled and uses a cane to get around her shoebox of an apartment. And when she sees our entrance, it makes Tom beyond angry.

“You!” she squeals, leaping from her chair in the sitting room. When she does, something changes in her face. Fear evaporates and is replaced with shock. She clutches a hand to her chest and I finally realize what’s happening.

“She’s having a heart attack!” I cry, leaping to her aid. I pull her into my arms and she doesn’t resist. I don’t think she can.

Tom sighs heavily. I start to wonder if he’ll join me in trying to save her until he hands off his coat to a goon and treks to the kitchen where he begins rifling through the refrigerator.

I cut my eyes at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m hungry,” he explains. “We weren’t fed at Arkham and that bag ruined all the fun.”

I glance down at Dr. Palek who stares flinchingly at the farthest window. Her eyes seem to vibrate and her breathing is labored. Her hand is limp in mine. I place my ear to her chest and hear the faintest of a heartbeat.

“Don’t worry,” I whisper. Her eyes find mine and she groans. “I’m going to save you.”

I set Dr. Palek gently on the carpet and rip apart her blouse. Recalling everything I learned in health class as a kid, I press a closed fist beneath an open palm on her left breast and begin compressions. I hum off the chorus to the _Bee Gee’s_ “Stayin’ Alive.”

Tom notices me and smirks. “What are you doing, Charley?”

“Trying to make sure she doesn’t die!” I snap.

He rolls his eyes. “She was gonna die either way. This just made our job easier. Though I have to admit, I would have found it fun making her bleed.”

“ _FUN?_ ” I stare daggers into Tom. “What the hell is wrong with you? This is an innocent woman, a _doctor_. She’s probably saved countless lives.”

“Or ruined them.” Tom steps forward and cracks a knuckle at his side. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Charley, but maybe that guard was right. You’re a little bitch.” He pulls back his arm to hit me and I flinch. Just as I’m waiting for the blow, something crashes behind me.

I stop the chest compressions for a moment to see Batman and Nightwing have burst through the window. I’ve never been happier about their presence. “Please,” I beg, displaying Dr. Palek. “She had a heart attack.”

Batman glances at me then to Nightwing. He nods before they diverge. While Batman goes after Tom and the goons, Nightwing drops to a knee beside me. “You did compressions?”

“Yes,” I explain. “She’s breathing but it’s faint.”

“It’s okay, she should be fine.” He pulls a tiny syringe from his belt and inserts it into Dr. Palek’s arm. She doesn’t flinch nor does anything change about her condition.

I nod at the now empty syringe. “What is that?”

“Something to keep her going until I can get her to the hospital.”

“She won’t die?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” He pulls Dr. Palek into his arms and stands. She hangs limp in his grasp as he heads to the front door.

“Please, Dick,” I call after him. He turns and stares at me wide-eyed. I realize then that while I know the identities of every vigilante in Gotham City, Charley Quinn doesn’t.

Nightwing stares for a moment longer before nodding. “I won’t let her die.”

“Charley!” Tom interrupts then. I turn to find him on the other side of the broken window. Batman is too busy with the goons to notice. “Let’s go, pumpkin. That bag is as good as dead.”

 _No, she isn’t_. I think before racing after the man I’m more than certain is not Tom.

♡♢♤♧

We return to the funhouse without any of the goons. It leaves us alone which under normal circumstances would excite me but now only terrifies me. Every bit of the Tom I know is no longer in the man I walk beside. He’s changed entirely and I’m not sure if I can get him back. If I can’t get home—and it looks like I won’t be anytime soon—does that mean I’m stuck with the Joker forever?

“Alright, pumpkin,” Tom interrupts, pulling me from my thoughts. “You ready for the rest of that punishment?”

“Mister J…” I plea. Though it makes me physically sick to do so, I know I can’t drop the Charley Quinn act when I’m around this man.

He looks me over before rolling his eyes and sighing. “Fine, fine. I won’t punish you. I’ll reward you instead.” A devilish grin flashes on his face and my stomach drops.

“What kind of reward..?”

“Take off your clothes, Charley.”

“Mister J, I don’t know—”

“NOW!”

I realize I have no choice. If I plan on ever finding hope of escaping Gotham City, I need to bide my time. If being Joker’s toy is part of that, so be it. I’ve done worse things already, murder among them.

It doesn’t take me long to strip. Once I have, Joker flips me onto the bed and pulls my ass up. There’s little to no excitement, no teasing. The least he does is spit on my opening before ramming inside.

I scream as he splits me and continue when he fists my hair and drives in full-force. He’s relentless, like a wild bull after a red handkerchief. His length is massive and practically bruises my spot. At times, it feels like he’s actually breaking me. The pain is unlike anything I’ve felt and blocks out any sense of joy sex with Tom usually brings. Thankfully, it doesn’t last long.

After the longest two minutes of my life, Joker pulls free from my aching hole and empties himself onto my back. When he does, I begin to cry, reminded that my back is Tom’s favorite place to finish. He would always lick me clean after and swirl the release in the hollows of my dimples.

“Christ,” Joker gasps, collapsing next to me. He’s drenched in sweat and his breathing is as bad as Dr. Palek’s.

He disgusts me but, still, I feign a smile. “That was so good, Mister J.”

“I know, pumpkin. It always is.”


	4. A Date with Evil

I spend the entirety of the day alone. Joker manages to sleep for a little while after he’s through with me. I hear his snores and mumbles as I pad naked through the funhouse, examining everything better without him beside me. The place isn’t terrible once I get a feel for it all. Were it not for the crude graffiti and ruined wallpaper, the funhouse could still run. The thought crosses my mind that Gotham officials should look into reopening the pier, at least the still-functioning attractions. I can imagine how much I’d enjoy exploring the twisted halls of this place, laughing at my distorted reflection in the mirrors and dancing in the banquet hall. Come to think of it, it’s the kind of place Tom would take me.

 _Tom._ I think, the idea pulling his memory back, the memory of his smile and hair and arms. When he’d hug me, his arms would act as belts strapping me in. I knew not even being thrown upside down could break me from him. Now, it seems something has. The hold is gone and in its place…a man I never knew I could exist beside. He’s vile and manipulative and the definition of evil. I can only wonder why Charley would stay with him for so long. And better yet, why am I?

It seems while I’ve kept hold of myself during this…transformation, Tom hasn’t been so lucky. I suppose I noticed it from the very beginning. There were little glimpses into Joker that I chose to ignore, chalking them up to the anxiety of being in a place like Arkham. Now I see that I was wrong to do so. Joker has seemed to completely take over Tom, erased him from existence. I just can’t understand why the same can’t be said about me, though I think there’s someone who can. My only problem is finding him.

It’s around three in the afternoon when Joker finally wakes. He crawls out of the heart-shaped bed in a sleepy stupor and treads to a door labeled **EMPLOYEES ONLY**. He disappears through it. A couple of minutes later, he emerges, tugging at his crotch. Dribbles of piss fling off.

He doesn’t see me or if he does, he chooses not to acknowledge my presence. Silently, he moves about the room, picking up items of clothing here and there until he’s found an entire outfit. He dresses in it quickly, a maroon button-down shirt and wrinkled slacks. He caps the outfit off with a pair of black loafers without socks. All things considered, he’s handsome.

He turns to me, apparently now noticing me. “Well, baby? How do I look?”

“Like a million bucks,” I lie through a cheeky grin. I bite my lip and eye him all over as he spins. “Who’s the lucky boy?”

“Ah, she’s a lady, pumpkin.” He steps forward and runs a hand through my hair. “Dr. Kinsey. You remember her, right? Two doctors before you.”

I shrug. “Sure. She’s a real catty bitch.”

“In about twenty minutes, she will have been.”

“Waddya mean, Mister J?” I ask though I think I already know the answer.

Joker turns and fiddles with the button on his pants. “She’s next on the list.”

I gulp. “And after her?”

“Oh, baby. That’s a surprise!”

“Yeah?”

Joker grins and his teeth are a horrible shade of yellow. “Yeah. Now, I gotta run, pumpkin. Don’t try to have too much fun without me, huh?”

He starts toward the banquet hall opening. I’ve got to think fast if I want him to stay, to not kill the next doctor, or any after on whatever this list is. There’s not much that could keep his attention though, nothing except…

 _No._ I tell myself but I don’t have a choice. I know I don’t.

“Oh, don’t go,” I whine. Joker turns and I’ve got him caught. It’s time to reel him in.

I hop onto the bed and crawl around on all fours. The water is a little difficult to balance on but I manage. I curl up onto my knees, one stacked on the other like a model in the old magazines. I keep one hand on the mattress and the other I trail up the length of my body until I’m twisting my nipple.

“ _Charley,_ ” Joker sighs.

“Come on, daddy,” I breathe seductively. “I’ve been a bad boy, a _very_ bad boy, daddy. I need to be punished.”

“How bad, baby?” He closes in on the bed and props a knee onto it, sending me falling forward. My face is inches from his hardened front.

I grin and look up at him through my lashes. “Break me, daddy.”

Before I realize it’s happening, Joker has me on my stomach. I look over my shoulder and watch him remove his belt. He folds it over and I know what to expect. _WHAP!_ The leather connects with my flesh and I squeal.

“Is that all?” I tease. I have to do all it takes to keep him here. If I make him angry, he won’t want to leave.

Sure enough, teasing him fuels the fire. Without saying a word, Joker brings the belt down three times in a row, each _WHAP_ stronger than the last. His spanks leave my ass burning. I wish I had a mirror to see just how red he’s left me. I know it’s more than Tom ever has.

“How’s that for a spanking, you slut?” he barks.

I bite my lip and cut my eyes at him. “I think you can do more, daddy.”

“Oh, you’re right about that.” He brings the belt down again but not on my ass. He strikes my arms and I yell. He ignores my response though and brings my wrists together. He ties them with the belt against my back. I expect him to use his hand on me now but instead, he trails to the back of the banquet hall. A moment later, he returns with a dildo though not one I’ve ever seen or knew could exist. It’s the girth of three men tied together and the length of four.

“What the hell?” I gasp as Joker lubes it up.

“Managed to get a cast of ol’ Crocky’s cock a few months ago,” he explains. “I thought it’d be fun.”

I gulp. “W-Won’t it hurt?”

“Oh, yes, baby. It’ll be _excruciating_.”

I bury my face in a pillow and prepare for the stretch. It comes only after Joker spits on my hole a couple of times. He brings the tip and it feels flat. No tip should be so large. It’s a struggle but Joker manages to slip it inside. And when I say struggle, I mean a pain so unimaginable that I nearly pass out. I scream and scream. Sweat pours down my face. I feel dizzy and sick to my stomach. And it’s only the tip.

“Never knew you were so tight, Charley!” Joker admires.

“Y-Yes,” I mumble against the pillow. I peel open my eyes and the room is hazy. My ass throbs and not mildly. “Please, sir, no more.”

“Mm, I think so.”

“Wha—JESUS FUCK!” My body convulses as Joker slams the remainder of the dildo in. He knocks against my spot and it feels like it’s burst apart. I’ve never felt anything like it. Comparably, I imagine being shot would feel less painful.

“That’s a good boy,” Joker praises with a snarl. “Now, get over here.” He pulls me to the edge of the bed without removing the dildo. When I sit, it inches in the length that has slipped out and the pain reignites. Tears stream down my face and my nose is snotty. Joker doesn’t care though. This is what he wants, what he craves.

“Open your mouth,” he commands. I do and await him to undo his pants. He releases his massive erection and shoves it into my throat, no warnings applied. I immediately begin gagging. Joker holds me like this for as long as I can take it, until my eyes disappear into my head and I feel the blackness of sleep coming on. He pulls out then and smacks me awake. “Don’t pass out on me, you cunt. Now, hold still.”

He keeps my head steady and thrusts into my throat. Over and over, he does this, emitting slurping gags from me and slime that spills down my chin. After a bit, he flips me onto my back and does the same with my head hanging over. The slime pools over my nose and blurs my vision. It leaks into my hair. Joker doesn’t relent though, at least not until he’s ready to burst. When that time comes, he pulls free from my mouth and curses into the air. His come paints me, dripping into my nose and gluing an eye shut. When I try to wipe it open, he scolds me.

“Don’t think about it,” he growls. “Turn over.” I do and he pulls free the dildo. While it’s relieving to have it out, the removal isn’t without pain. The ridges and veins rip my flesh. At least, that’s what it feels like.

“Thank you, sir,” I breathe, relieved.

“You’re a whore.” Joker spits on my face before shoving the dildo into my mouth. He leaves then and I’m too stunned to stop him. A few minutes later, I hear the motor of a car start and know he’s gone.

I remove the dildo and toss it angrily to the floor before racing into the mirror room to examine my hole. Though warped in the reflection, there’s no denying how gaped I am. It’d be easy to fit my fist inside. I try it and, sure enough, it’s like slipping on a glove. I should be furious, and I am, but I’m turned on a little. No one has ever taken such control, not so brutally. Still, I have to remind myself that Joker does not do it out of love, not how Tom could.

 _Shit, Joker!_ I scream internally, remembering he’s off on an errand of murder. I don’t where he’s going but I’m sure someone does. To get to him, there’s one place I know I can go.

♡♢♤♧

I reach Gotham Central on one of the many dirt bikes procured by Joker’s goons from unsuspecting citizens. I park in an alleyway a block away and take the rest of the journey on foot. There’s no way I can reach the roof by simply waltzing into the station, not as Charley anyway. Luckily, there’s a fire escape ladder a few feet up from the ground on the back of the building. With a leap from atop a dumpster, I manage to grab hold and haul myself onto the roof.

I find the place abandoned just as I hoped. The bat-light is off but not for long. With a kick of the switch, I bring it to life and wait. I expect someone to come running in seconds, perhaps Commissioner Gordon noticing the light through a window. No one does though and a few minutes later, someone drops behind me. I turn and come face to face with…

“Nightwing?”

He grins. “Don’t act disappointed. You called for a hero.”

“Well, yeah,” I say. “But Batman.”

“He’s busy.” Nightwing shrugs. “Joker is after another doctor. Why’d you call me here?”

I eye him suspiciously, checking for any sign that he’s not who he says he is. “The better question is why aren’t you arresting me? I’m literally on top of the police station.”

“You’re not a threat,” he deadpans.

“How do you know for sure?” I quip.

He inches closer to me and tucks a loose piece of hair behind my ear. “Because you’re not Charley Quinn.” I gasp and he chuckles. “That’s what you were going to tell me, right?”

“Well, I…Yeah. How’d you know though?”

He turns and bends over the edge of the roof, his arms resting against a stone half-wall. “I didn’t. Batman had his suspicions. That’s why he invited me for interrogation. He knew Charley would sleep with me; he’s always had a thing for me. He didn’t expect Joker to be so willing though.”

“Waddya mean?” I join him on the wall.

He shakes his head. “Joker isn’t the romantic type. He’d rather kill Batman more than anything in life. Yet, he willingly went down on him. That’s when Bruce knew for sure. I was a little dubious at first. Then you called me by my real name.”

“I’m sorry if I caused you any harm,” I explain.

“Nah, it’s fine. Dr. Palek doesn’t remember anything and I don’t think anyone heard you.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “I guess the real question is who are you?”

I tell him everything there is to know—my name, my age, where I’m from, where I was before landing in Gotham. He digests it all without saying a word. Only after I mention that Tom is no longer himself does he interrupt me.

“That’s normal,” he says. When I cock an eyebrow at him, he chuckles. “Well, not for you. See, you coming into our world removed the real Joker and Charley. By becoming them, your personalities changed too.”

“I’m not thinking like Charley though,” I protest.

“No,” he agrees. “That’s because Charley wasn’t always Charley. For a while, he was Charles Quinzell, renowned psychiatrist and the last doctor to ever see Joker without a partner in crime.”

The dots all connect then. “So, you’re telling me that if I stay in Gotham, I’ll become Charley?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Harrison.”

“Oh, God!” I cry out, tears spilling over. There’s nothing worse I can imagine than being someone so vicious.

Nightwing pulls me against him. I can hear his heartbeat as I press my face against his latex-covered chest. “It’ll be okay,” he assures me. “Batman has found a way to get you both home.”

“He has?” I lean up and look Nightwing in the eyes. They’re less dark up close, even hidden behind his mask.

He smiles and wipes a tear away with his thumb. “I promise. By morning, you’ll be back home.”

I don’t say anything to that. Instead, I press my mouth against Nightwing’s. He parts his lips and I taste him, sweet and sour like he’s been sucking on a _Lemonhead_ candy. He smiles against me and our lips curl. Kissing him is so surreal. It’s real but…it isn’t. I know he’s nothing more than a character in a comic but the way he curls his tongue under mine makes me feel like I could be with him forever.

“Wow,” he breathes when we eventually pull apart. “Was that as good as I think it was?”

I nod. “I think so. You know, they always say never meet your heroes but I don’t think there’s anything about kissing them.”

“No?”

“Nope.” I bring my lips forward again but stop as his pager sounds at his belt.

He clicks something in his ear. “Batman?” He pauses as if listening. The conversation is one-sided for me. “Damn it. Okay. Did he mention anything about Charley? Yeah, he’s with me. You can’t be serious! Fine, fine. Yes, I’ll tell him.”

He hangs up and scowls worryingly at me. I frown. “What is it?”

“Batman wants you to return to Joker,” he explains. “He has a plan.”

“I’ll do anything to get home,” I promise. “What’s the plan.”

“I’ll explain on the way.” He flips the bat-light off and guides me off the roof. On the ground is his motorbike. “You ever rode one of these before?”


	5. Home Bound

Nightwing drops me off a block away from the pier with a good luck kiss on the cheek and a reminder to follow the plan. I promise him I will and even recount the steps aloud so he’s sure of his confidence in me. I wave goodbye as he drives into the night then race back to the funhouse where Joker is waiting for me.

He snarls as I step into the banquet hall. He’s changed from his suit to a white tank top and dirty blue jeans. Neither are very fitting for his slim figure, hanging off unevenly. “Charley, Charley, Charley…”

I gulp back any fear and remember the first thing Nightwing told me. “Joker will try to break you,” he said as I struggled to remain upright on his bike. “He feeds off of your fear. Don’t show him any.”

“Yes, Mister J?” I ask, trying to sound as confident and seductive as possible.

“Hmm.” Joker stares at me for a moment, as if he’s unsure about me, before breaking into a shrill laugh. The piercing screech of it grows louder as he stalks up to me and throws a hand against my face. I collapse to the ground with a yelp and he stops laughing. “I know you went out.”

“Mister J, I—”

“Shut it!” he barks. He hacks then spits on my face. My first instinct is to wipe it away, to flee from this abuser as far as I can go. But I remember the next thing Nightwing told me.

He was stern in saying, as if it were the most important part of the plan, “You can’t break character as Charley. No matter what the Joker does to you, you have to be in love with him.”

“But I’m not,” I protested.

Nightwing grimaced. “If he suspects for even a second that you’re someone else, he’ll kill you. Do you understand?”

I do, though I’m not sure how death can be worse than any fate Joker deals. He’s like a bad losing streak in the casinos. No matter what you bet on, you end up in the red. For my sake, I hope the red is only metaphorical.

“I’m sorry, Mister J…” I whimper.

“Sorry?” he breathes, agitated. “I bet you’re sorry. Where did you go, Charley?”

I struggle to a sitting position and caress my sore cheek. “I-I got a drink w-with Ivy, Mister J.”

“ _Ivy?_ That rose-budded skank?”

“Y-Yes, Mister J.”

“Well, you deserve a punishment for that. You know I don’t like you around her kind.”

Though I can’t understand why, Joker’s words offend me. I haven’t even heard Poison Ivy’s name mentioned the entire time I’ve been in Gotham, yet I believe she’s more than what Joker portrays her. Could it be I’m starting to become Charley? Is my time running short? Nightwing did press that the plan _had_ to be enacted tonight.

Joker turns away from me (thankfully) and busies himself with an outfit strewn on the bed. “I don’t have time to punish you now. Get up and fix yourself. I don’t need you embarrassing me on such an important night.”

“W-What’s so important about it?” I quaver, climbing to my feet and wiping away Joker’s spit.

“What’s so..?” Joker storms up to me and takes a bundle of my shirt in his hands. I flinch, expecting another hit but instead he kisses me. The feeling of his lips on mine makes me freeze. They’re icy and nearly dead. No amount of love seeps through them.

“M-Mister J?” I begin but he ignores me.

He releases me and takes up his clothes, holding them against his body. “What do you think, pumpkin? Too much for our last hurrah?”

I shrug at the pinstriped slacks and boutonniere-adorned dress coat. “It looks flashy, Mister J. L-Like you.”

“Just the words I was looking for, pumpkin! Now, you’ll find your formal wear in the mirror room. I know how you pretty boys like to look at yourselves.” He winks at me as if he’s doing me a favor but it only makes my stomach rumble. Though that could be because I haven’t eaten since being in Gotham.

“Thank you, Mister J,” I mumble before leaving him to dress.

My formal wear, it turns out, is nothing short of something you’d find in a strip club. First, there’s a cropped tee shirt with the words **Daddy’s Little Slut** written across in messy ink. A black leather chest harness is meant to be worn over it. And while I’d never normally be caught dead in it, I slip the thing on to appease Joker. Next comes the trousers that are so skintight there’s no method of hiding my bulging front. The same kind of leather straps on my chest wrap around my legs. Add a pair of black motorbiking boots to the look and I’m either a club worker or an over-zealous costume party attendant. Imagining the latter helps me keep down the bile in my throat.

When I’m done changing, I find Joker back in the banquet hall. He looks, for a lack of better words, dapper in his suit. It reminds me of a classic gangster from the black and white film era. When he sees me, he whistles low and praises my body. I waltz up to him and he smiles.

“Charley, Charley, Charley.” He whistles again and brings his lips to my stomach. I cringe as he swirls his tongue in my naval. “How did you get so sexy? Damn, pumpkin.”

“Just lucky, I guess,” I concede uncomfortably.

“Well,” Joker announces. “I suppose we better not be late to our own party. I have a feeling we’ll have so uninvited guests.”

If all goes to plan, _we’ll_ be the guests.

♡♢♤♧

The party Joker mentions over and over on the drive over takes place on the top of Wayne Tower. When we get there, we find a window cleaner lift waiting for us, a goon ready to operate. Joker, surprisingly, leads me in first before nodding at the goon to begin. After a couple jerks, the lift rises. I close my eyes after a while because heights terrify me. I only open them when I feel the lift stop and know we’re on the roof.

“Well,” Joker announces, pushing me off of the lift and onto solid cement. “Welcome to your party.”

“ _My_ party?” I survey the roof. It looks nothing like a party save for a couple of helium-filled balloons tied to a metal chair and a banner held by a couple of goons. When I read the words, my heart drops into my stomach. **Goodbye, Charley!**

I turn with pleading eyes to Joker. “Mister J, what…what is all this?”

“Remember how you asked me earlier today who the last doctor was?”

“Yeah…”

Joker smiles devilishly, his mouth spreading farther than any human’s should be able to. “Well, you’re it! You’re the last doctor, Charles Quinzell!”

“Joker, no!” I squeal but to no avail. He snaps his fingers and the goons are on me, dragging me across the roof and into the chair where the chest and leg harnesses prove useful. Once I’m tied down with the harnesses and new straps, Joker stands in front of me. He retrieves a pistol from inside his coat and points the barrel directly at my forehead.

“Well, Charley, we had a fun run, didn’t we?”

I shake my head and scream. “ _HELP!_ ”

Joker just laughs. “Cry all you want. No one is coming for you, at least not until it’s too late.”

“Don’t count on it, Joker.” The voice is hollow and commanding and comes from the shadows. A second later, Batman emerges to claim it. “Drop the gun and let him go.”

“Batman!” I squeal in relief. He lifts a hand to silence me and I nod knowingly.

“You heard me, Joker,” he reiterates. “Let him go.”

Joker sighs and drops his arm to his side. “Fine, Bats, you win. As always.” Batman doesn’t let his guard down though. After a few seconds, I understand why.

Joker, quicker than I can realize, fires the gun at Batman who narrowly ducks away from the bullet. As it disappears into the shadows, Nightwing cartwheels into view. He stands and curses under his breath. I beam at his arrival. If there’s anyone who will protect me, it’s him.

“Damn,” he says teasingly. “You gotta watch where you point that thing, Joker. You could shoot someone’s eye out.”

“Oh, how cute! A little bat-family reunion. Remind me, were you the one I beat to death with a crowbar?” Joker sneers at Nightwing who seems unaffected.

“Jason? I guess you should’ve hit him harder. He isn’t dead.”

Joker shrugs lazily. “Figures. Batman could never go without a sidekick.”

“I work alone,” Batman corrects him.

“As do I!” Nightwing jumps into the air and lands beside me. My eyes dart every which way, trying to keep up, as he takes out the goons with swift kicks. In total, it’s four that he makes quick work of. When he’s done, he isn’t even breathing heavy. It’s easy for him.

“Thank you,” I whisper as he leans down to untie me.

He smiles. “Don’t mention it.”

After I’m free from my harnesses, Nightwing leads me to the edge of the roof. He instructs me to keep hold of him as he pulls a grapple gun from his belt. He fires it at building below and jumps. I squeal as we fall through the air. Nightwing only laughs. He seems to be enjoying himself, his time with me.

When we land safely, Nightwing replaces his grapple gun and leads me to an alleyway where his motorbike is parked. He tosses me an extra helmet and I hold it without putting it on. Nightwing cocks an eyebrow at me when he notices.

“That’s kinda for your safety.”

I nod. “Yeah, I know. It’s just…” I glance around. “Joker’s with Batman, right? He can’t find me?”

“No,” Nightwing says. “I promise.”

“Okay, good. I wouldn’t want him to see me do this.” I step forward and lock my lips with his. We kiss for what feels like hours. After, I step back and smile at him. He glows.

“I can’t believe how good you are at doing that,” he says.

I feel my face redden. “Tom always said the same."

“Yeah? Well, he’s a smart man, a lucky man.”

“Thank you.”

Nightwing brings a hand to my cheek and strokes it with his thumb. “I mean it. He’s lucky to have you. Don’t let him forget that.”

“I won’t,” I promise.

“Good.” He hops onto the motorbike and pats the seat behind him. “Now, you ready to see the Batcave?”

♡♢♤♧

The Batcave is unlike anything I’ve seen before. It’s dark and filled with massive museum artifacts. A large tyrannosaurus-rex model towers over everything else—statues, glass cases displaying costumes, dozens of motorbikes. Off in a corner of the cave where Nightwing and I enter is the Batmobile on a rotating display. And towards the back of the cave is a gargantuan display of technology. This is where Nightwing leads me. We find Batman, unmasked and vigorously typing into the computer system.

He nods when he sees us. “Joker’s tied down in the cell. You want to show him, Dick?”

“Sure,” Dick says before encouraging me onward. He leads me through the twists of the cave until we come upon a cell holding Joker. He’s chained down so that he can’t move from his bed.

“He looks…odd,” I confess to Dick.

He nods knowingly. “Yeah, he refused to speak to Bruce.”

“Wait, you used his real name. Won’t Joker know?”

“Nah.” Dick nods at his limp figure. “He’s not really Joker, you know? Once you’re back home, he’ll forget everything that’s happened.”

“How can you be sure?” I ask.

Dick shrugs. “We can’t. But like everything in life, we make scientific guesses.”

“I didn’t know you were a scientist.”

He smiles. “Please, I work with Batman. I kinda have to be.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I look again at Joker and all joy stops. “Can I go in?”

Dick stares at me for a moment before deciding I probably know what’s best. Somewhere in that decrepit shell is the love of my life and I intend to find him. “Sure.”

He unlocks the cell and opens the door just wide enough for me to slip in. Once inside I nod at him and he leaves. I know he won’t be far and if the black bulb in the corner of the cell is any indication, I’m not alone.

I walk slowly to Joker’s bed and sit on the edge. He doesn’t move as I stare at him. His eyes are dead-like, glued to the ceiling. It’s only when I reach out and touch his arm that he flinches.

“What do you want, Charley?” he deadpans.

“I’m not Charley,” I remind him coolly.

He half-grins for a second before dropping back to his dead self. “Batman told me as much.”

“Did he tell you that you aren’t Joker?”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe him?”

He faces me now and frowns. “Do I look stupid?”

“Honestly?” I smile. “Yeah. You look _really_ stupid like that, Tom.”

“Oh, your little slut? You going to see him later then?”

I shake my head. “No, I already am.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you’re right, that was a bit confusing. Just…let me show you what I mean.”

I crawl up and onto Joker who flinches beneath my touch. I inch my face to his so that he can feel my breath on his lips and I can feel his. I place my hand on his chest and can feel his heart racing. Inside that heart is Tom and I’m certain the beating is for me solely.

“Tom,” I whisper. “Tom, I know you can hear me. Please, come back to me, baby.”

“Stop it,” Joker protests, looking sick.

I shake my head. “I know you’re in there, Tom. Tell me you’re there. I miss you.”

Joker groans. “No, stop it. What are you doing?”

“Please, baby,” I coo. “I love you. I love you so much and I need you with me. Tom, please.”

I bring my lips down on a squirming Joker and push through all the love I can muster. I part his lips and imagine all the times Tom and I have had, remember the first time we kissed. I call back to the first time he told me loved just after we finished losing our virginities to each other. I pull every memory of us to the forefront of my mind.

When I pull back, I stare at a confused Joker. He blinks at me once, twice, then smiles. “Haz?”

“Tom…” I breathe, tears spilling over. “Is it really you?”

“It’s me, baby. I’m so sorry about everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was there, Haz. In the back of Joker’s mind, I was there. He could feel me, I know it. I had to watch all that abuse you endured. I should have been able to stop him but I wasn’t.”

I bring a finger to his lips to silence him. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you.”

“You should.”

“No, I shouldn’t. I know you’d give your life for me, Tom. You don’t have to apologize when you weren’t in control.”

“Yeah?”

I smile. “Yeah…you idot.”

He chuckles. “I’ve missed you so much, baby.”

“Me too.” I bring my lips to his again and this time he returns the favor, kissing me with the fervor I’ve come to know. He tastes like himself, smells like himself. His tongue dances with mine and it doesn’t belong to the Joker. It belongs to him. He’s in control.

He pulls back after a while of kissing, panting. “Haz…take off my pants.”

“The chains,” I protest. “I can get Dick to come—”

“No,” he cuts in. “I need you now. _Please_.”

I don’t argue because just as badly as he wants me, I want him too. I make quick work of his pants, yanking them down to his ankles. He’s already fully erect. After taking off my shorts, I climb atop Tom and let him slide in. He does with such ease, such care. He’s the polar opposite of the Joker.

“Oh, baby,” he moans. “I’ve missed that feeling so much.”

“Tom…” I breathe, arching my back and bringing him against my spot. “Tom, fuck me.”

For the next half-hour, we fall into a rhythm of true love making. There are no theatrics, no kinks, and no pain. It is just the two of us becoming one, Tom grinding against my ass and my hands winding in his hair. We make out for the majority of it. When we aren’t, we’re telling each other how much we love the other.

Our love making comes to an end when Tom breathes into my ear, “I’m coming, baby.” With a grunt, he releases, filling me with every drop of seed he has. He coats my walls and splatters my spot, igniting my own climax that shoots all over his dress coat. When we’re both finally done, I collapse onto him and drift to sleep. His soft words are the last thing I hear before I’m encompassed in darkness.

♡♢♤♧

I wake to the rumble of what I think is the prison van. My first thought is that Batman wasn’t able to return us home and now we’re being carted back to Arkham for our crimes. But no, Nightwing would never let that happen. So, if we’re not going to Gotham, that can only mean one thing.

I leap up and take in my surroundings. Tears flood my eyes and pour down my cheeks as I realize we’re back on the jet plane. We haven’t crashed and the wing of the plane is perfectly intact.

“Tom?” I ask, probably louder than necessary.

“Y-Yeah?” I hear from the ground, his voice sounding a little groggy. It takes him a moment to notice where we’re at before he’s on his feet and in my lap. “We’re home. Oh, my god, Haz, we’re home!”

“I know, baby. I know.” I lean up and we kiss. It’s the best feeling having Tom in my arms, _my_ Tom. His hair is his and his smile is his. His body is his. “I missed this. I never knew how bad.”

Tom pulls back, crying. “I did too. Promise me we’ll never read another comic.”

I laugh despite the seriousness of the question. “Well, not one from a stranger, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, come here, you idiot,” Tom chuckles. He pulls me into his arms and we fall to the floor where we make love as it’s supposed to be.


End file.
